


nolita fairytale.

by porcelainsimplicity



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Charles is not a scientist or a professor, M/M, Mutant Art Gallery, Raven's a little obnoxious, Sebastian Shaw is an asshole, So are the rest of their friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainsimplicity/pseuds/porcelainsimplicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier was a twenty-something heir to a massive fortune, a recent graduate of Columbia University, and the proud owner of a Masters in Art History that every single one of his friends told him was useless.  Charles, however, disagreed, and despite the fact that every single one of his friends reminded him that he had enough money that he never needed to work a day in his life, he was not the type of person to just sit around the family's estate and order servants around like his mother did.</p><p>No, Charles was determined to actually do something with his life.  And, unlike most of his friends, he knew exactly <i>what</i> he was going to do with his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nolita fairytale.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scarlett_Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Phoenix/gifts).



> um, so i wrote this in about two hours in the middle of the night so if it sucks, i apologize. 
> 
> this is for scarlett because it never would have been an idea, let alone written, without you. also, i apologize to you for having HER as one of the characters and for mentioning the other HER if only in passing. 
> 
> title comes from vanessa carlton's song.

Charles Xavier was a twenty-something heir to a massive fortune, a recent graduate of Columbia University, and the proud owner of a Masters in Art History that every single one of his friends told him was useless. Charles, however, disagreed, and despite the fact that every single one of his friends reminded him that he had enough money that he never needed to work a day in his life, he was not the type of person to just sit around the family's estate and order servants around like his mother did.

No, Charles was determined to actually do something with his life. And, unlike most of his friends, he knew exactly _what_ he was going to do with his life.

First, he needed to find the right space, which took him to every borough of New York City and through hundreds of retail space rentals before he fell in love with a space in the Puck Building in Nolita, Manhattan. 

Second, he needed to remodel the space to make it a fitting space for an art gallery, and that was how he had met his contractor Logan. Logan had been recommended to him by the real estate agent, and he was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was a fellow mutant. After spending most of their initial meeting discussing mutations and mutants' place in society, they eventually developed a plan for the space and Logan's team got to work. A month later, Logan was counted amongst Charles's group of friends, and he had a beautifully constructed open space to display art.

Third, he needed to solicit art for the gallery to display and sell. This came through various different forms of advertising, from posters tacked to lamp posts to the latest in digital advertisements, all making it extremely clear that only art by mutant artists would be accepted, and yes, the gallery owner would be able to tell if you were a mutant or not.

The art gallery was Charles's pride and joy, even if no one he knew actually understood why he felt the need to display mutant art in a gallery that humans were probably not going to visit and that mutant artists probably wouldn't want to exhibit at. He thoroughly disagreed with them, of course, and was determined to prove them all wrong when mutant artists came out of the woodwork to have their work displayed at the gallery.

And then no one answered the ads.

For six months.

Charles's group of friends were begging him to reconsider his life choices when a man came into the gallery one Tuesday afternoon. Charles had been in the office in the back when the door had opened, and as he walked around the corner to greet the man, he was not prepared for the absolute motherfucking gorgeousness of the mutant standing before him. And yes, he was definitely a mutant, and Charles was probably going to agree to whatever it was the man wanted because holy fuck, he was hot.

The man looked around the empty gallery before looking at Charles, and Charles shook himself out of his stupor to walk towards him and actually introduce himself. “I'm sorry. Hello, I'm Charles Xavier, the gallery's owner.”

“Erik Lehnsherr,” the man said, looking around the gallery again. “Are you between shows right now?”

Charles felt his face flush with embarrassment. “No. We, um, we haven't had an exhibition yet.”

“Oh,” Erik said, looking down at the poster in his hand before holding it up to Charles. “Is this still good then?”

Charles nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, absolutely! I would love to have an exhibition. In fact, I've been quite disappointed in the fact that no one has come forward and wanted to display their art.”

Erik shrugged. “First time for everything, I suppose. So, how does this work then?”

Charles smiled at him. “How about you start by telling me what your mutation is?”

“I can manipulate metal,” Erik said. “It's how I sculpt, actually.”

“Oh, you're a _sculptor_? That's fantastic! I love sculptures. I wrote an entire dissertation about sculpture when I was in school.”

Erik blinked a couple of times. “You wrote a dissertation about sculpture.”

“I have a Masters in Art History from Columbia,” Charles explained, and Erik broke into a smile.

“You know that's an utterly useless degree, right?”

Charles sighed and shook his head. “You sound exactly like my friends.”

“No, I sound exactly like myself,” Erik said, laughing. “I have a Masters in Art History from Fordham and it's utterly useless.”

Charles joined Erik in laughing and then smiled at the other man. “So if the degree is useless, what do you do, Erik?”

“I'm a bartender,” Erik said, smiling at Charles. “It pays the bills.”

“Well, you're just going to have to mix me a drink sometime,” Charles said, grabbing the poster out of Erik's hand before he could say anything else as stupid as that. “So, let's go back to the office and discuss your exhibition.”

Charles turned around and started walking to the office, not looking back to make sure Erik was following him. By the time he was sitting down at his desk, however, Erik came strolling into the office, and Charles took a moment to drink in the sight of him. If Erik looked that good in ripped jeans and a t-shirt, Charles could only imagine how good he'd look with no clothes on.

Charles coughed to try to get himself back on track and he and Erik began to discuss how many sculptures Erik wanted to display and for how long a period of time. Charles took copious amounts of notes much to Erik's amusement, and at the end of their conversation, they had agreed to Charles displaying ten sculptures for a month.

“So, um, how much is this going to cost me?” Erik finally asked, and Charles could feel the nervousness rolling off of him in waves. 

“Nothing,” Charles said, and Erik's eyes widened.

“Excuse me?”

Charles sighed. “I'm from a family that around here I believe gets referred to as old money,” he explained. “Basically, I have more than enough money and this is just my way of doing something with my life and hopefully helping the lives of other mutants like yourself.”

“Xavier,” Erik murmured. “You're one of the Xaviers of Westchester.”

“Nice to see that my family's reputation proceeds me,” Charles said, unsure if that was a good thing or not.

“Your father did good work,” Erik said. “My father, he was very interested in your father's research.”

Charles brightened at that. “Oh, well, tell him thank you. I'm sure my father would have appreciated hearing that.”

“I would tell him if I could, but sadly my father is also deceased,” Erik said softly. “My mother as well.”

“I am so terribly sorry to hear that,” Charles said sincerely. “Do you have any siblings?”

Erik shook his head. “No, it's been just me since I was eighteen. Thankfully I have some loyal friends or I probably would have gone insane by now.”

“I know exactly what you mean about loyal friends,” Charles said, smiling. “However, mine all think I'm insane for this gallery.”

“That's because you are,” Erik said, laughing. “But hell, I've got to get my stuff on display somehow, so I'm giving it a shot.”

“Well, I cannot promise you anything, Erik, but I will do my best to showcase and sell your sculptures.”

Erik nodded and reached out to shake Charles's hand. “Then I will see you on Friday with my sculptures.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Charles said, shaking his hand.

~*~

By Friday afternoon, the gallery was filled with some of the most amazing sculptures that Charles had ever seen. His first thought upon seeing them was of how amazingly talented Erik was. His second thought involved his growing desire to get in the man's pants. However, that was totally unprofessional of him, so he quickly wrote off that thought.

Erik was standing in the middle of the gallery, looking around with awe on his face. “I've never seen my stuff in a gallery before.”

“Well, there's a first time for everything,” Charles said, walking over to him. “These sculptures really are amazing, Erik.”

They were all of animals, the most spectacular of which was a lifesize peacock which Erik had confessed to making from empty beer cans. Charles had just stared at it, fascinated, before laughing when he caught half of the Budweiser logo on the back of a feather.

Erik looked at him with pride in his face. “That means a lot coming from someone with a Masters in Art History from Columbia.”

Charles just laughed. “I knew it was useless when I signed up for it. I just got to university and decided that I really didn't want to be the geneticist that I'd spent my whole life dreaming about. My mother actually acted like she cared for a minute when I announced the switch of majors.”

“Acted like she cared?” Erik asked, then immediately shook his head. “Sorry, that's probably too personal for me to be asking.”

“No, it's fine,” Charles said, giving him a sad smile. “My mother cares more about how much alcohol is in her glass than either of her children. My stepfather does a good job of making sure that the alcohol in the glass doesn't get too low.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Erik said, and Charles could tell he was being sincere. “I can't imagine a mother who doesn't care about her children. My mother perhaps cared about me too much.”

“Your mother sounds wonderful,” Charles said, smiling. “I don't need to hear another word about her to know she would be a godsend compared to Sharon.”

“Charles!” came a female voice, and then in surprise, “oh my god, there's art in here!”

Charles sighed. “My sister. Had a bet going with her friends that I'd never get an exhibition.”

“So how much money did she lose?” Erik asked, amused.

“I think they all lost,” Charles laughed as Raven came around the corner. “Raven, my dear, come and meet Erik. He's an amazing sculptor, isn't he?”

Raven walked over to them and held out her hand to Erik. “Hello, I'm Raven. Don't listen to a thing Charles has said. He's delusional.”

“Raven!” Charles exclaimed, but Erik just laughed.

“I've got a Masters in Art History from Fordham,” Erik said automatically, and Raven peered at him like he was some sort of alien creature.

“Dear god, Charles, you've found someone who is as delusional as you!” Raven shook her head, glancing around at the sculptures. “Metal?”

“It's what I can manipulate,” Erik said, as Raven walked over to a small sculpture of a lion. 

“God, it even looks like his mane is made out of hair,” she said as she studied it. “Your stuff is way too good to be in this pathetic gallery.”

“Raven!” Charles exclaimed again. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I was going to see if you'd leave your little gallery early tonight to go have drinks at Aquitaine's on Bleecker, but apparently you're busy.”

“Aquitaine's?” Erik chuckled. “That's where I work. Come by, I'll give you free drinks all night.”

Raven looked up from a sculpture of a grizzly bear with a bright smile on her face. “Free drinks? Does that count for all of us?”

“Who all is coming?” Charles asked.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Raven murmured. “Angel, Sean, Alex, Darwin. Moira said she might stop by too, but as usual, we're secretly hoping she doesn't.”

Charles bit back a laugh at that. “Raven, that's not very nice.”

“Do you want her hitting on you while she's drunk again?” Raven asked, and Charles laughed for real. “I'm serious, Charles. She spent the entire night hitting on me. ME.”

“Well, let's hope for your sake that that doesn't happen again,” Charles said, turning to Erik. “There really is no need for free drinks for all of her friends.”

“They're your friends too!”

“Good, 'cause I'm only giving them to you,” Erik said, smiling when Raven made an annoyed noise. “For believing in my art.”

“Well, then it sounds like I'm coming to Aquitaine's then.”

Erik grinned at him. “I start work at seven,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I've got to get home and get ready for work, actually, so if you don't mind, I'm going to go.”

“Not at all,” Charles said, smiling back. “I'll see you at seven.”

Erik said a quick goodbye to Raven and then walked out of the gallery. Raven walked over to Charles and slapped him on the shoulder. “You want him so bad, don't you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Charles asked, instantly worried. “I'm trying so hard to stay professional but he's so motherfucking gorgeous.”

“I say tap it,” Raven said, digging into her purse. “Besides, he clearly wants you too.”

“What?” Charles asked, looking over at her. “He does not.”

“Charles, the man just gave you free drinks at _Aquitaine's_ ,” Raven said, pulling her phone out of her purse and walking back to the sculpture of the lion. “That will save you at least five hundred dollars tonight.”

Charles watched her take a picture of the sculpture before shaking his head. “What? What kind of place is this?”

“Uber exclusive,” Raven said, snapping pictures of a few more sculptures. “It's Sebastian Shaw's new place.”

“And that means? And also, what are you doing?”

Raven rolled her eyes as she looked over at Charles. “Sebastian Shaw only runs the most exclusive clubs in New York City, Charles. Remember Hoa before it closed? That was Shaw. Leopold's too, but we stopped going there because it turned into hipsters' paradise. And I'm putting pictures of the sculptures on Twitter and Facebook, so you know, maybe someone will see them and want to view them in person.” 

“Oh,” Charles murmured, thinking about what she said. “So basically we've been drinking in clubs that Sebastian Shaw owns the entire time I've been at Columbia?”

“Basically,” Raven said, walking over to Charles and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “By the way, I told everyone you're buying. Now come on, let's go!”

Charles just shook his head and turned towards his office, grabbing his belongings before jogging to the door to meet Raven. The gallery's first exhibition would just have to start the next day.

~*~

When Erik said he was a bartender, Charles had been expecting he'd be a typically dressed bartender in a typical bar. Instead, the inside of Aquitaine's looked like in the inside of Versailles, and Erik was standing behind a highly ornate bar in a tuxedo.

Charles nearly melted on the spot.

Raven pushed him up to the bar and smiled at Erik before beginning to rattle off the group's drink orders. Charles just stood there and let her, because he certainly didn't know what kind of drink to get everyone, and then Raven disappeared and Charles reached for his wallet. “I'm sorry about her, she really has no manners whatsoever. What do I have to do to start a tab?”

Erik just smiled and started mixing drinks. “I'll need a credit card to hold for that. And she's fine. That was more polite than most of the clientele, really. You haven't mentioned what you want yet, however.”

“Erik, the offer of free drinks was very kind, but really, I must insist on you allowing me to pay for them.”

Erik glanced up at Charles as he shook a tumbler. “Charles, I meant it. Free drinks all night, just for you. Now tell me what to make you.”

“A Dirty Black Russian,” Charles said automatically, noticing how the edges of Erik's mouth perked up. “What?”

“Not the sort of drink I pictured you having is all. One Dirty Black Russian coming up.”

Charles fished a credit card out of his wallet and waited to hand it over to Erik. “What sort of drink did you picture me having?”

“A Monkey Gland, to be honest.”

Charles blinked. “A what?”

Erik laughed. “A Monkey Gland. Gin, orange juice, grenadine, and absinthe.”

“Never heard of it. Sounds good though.”

“I'll make you one next, hm?” Erik said, sliding a tray onto the bar and setting a number of glasses onto it. Charles reached for it, but Erik shook his head. “Gotta make your Dirty Black Russian first, and then Emma will be glad to take the tray to your table.”

Charles looked to his left when he heard a noise of disgust, and found a blonde woman standing there in a French maid's uniform. “Oh Erik, make it sound like I like my job a little bit more, why don't you?”

“Emma, you know very well where you could be right now if you'd just apologize,” Erik said, and Emma made another noise of disgust. 

“I am not apologizing to that asshole,” Emma said.

“Then be prepared to be a waitress for the rest of your life,” Erik said, sliding the glass with Charles's Dirty Black Russian onto the tray and plucking the credit card from Charles's hand. “There you go. See you in a bit.”

Emma grabbed the tray and took off before Charles could say anything, and he glanced at Erik for a moment before deciding he better follow her. Emma led him away from the bar and into a private room, and a loud cheer went up from the gathered group as Emma set the tray down on the table. “Enjoy.”

She slipped out of the room and Charles glanced back at the bar for a moment before settling down into the booth next to Angel. “Evening, everyone.”

“Evening, Professor,” they all said in unison before breaking into a fit of laughter. They all took their drinks off the tray and Charles reached for his as well. 

“Oh my god, you guys, when I went to the gallery this afternoon, there was actually art in it!” Raven exclaimed, grabbing her phone and bringing up the pictures. “And it doesn't suck either. Charles lucked out. He got the art and a hot sculptor-slash-bartender out of the deal.”

Charles nearly choked on his drink. “I do not have a hot sculptor-slash-bartender.”

“Give it a few hours and you will,” Raven said, handing her phone over to Angel. “Look at this shit. It's amazing.”

Angel took the phone as she took a long sip of her drink, flicking through the photos. “Damn, this shit really is good.”

Darwin leaned over to look before reaching around Angel's back and slapping Charles on the shoulder. “About time, man! Good luck with that and with the sculptor-slash-bartender.”

Alex and Sean echoed that by raising their drinks towards Charles, and Charles sighed heavily. “It has not been that long since I had a boyfriend.”

“You haven't had a boyfriend since first semester, sophomore year,” Raven said seriously. “And I'm fairly certain you haven't gotten laid since we all went to Vegas almost two years ago.”

Charles opened his mouth to argue when the realization that she was right hit him and he reached for his drink. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Angel said, patting him on the thigh. “So I say take your chance with this sculptor-slash-bartender. Even if it's just a night, it'll do you good.”

Alex, Sean, and Darwin all echoed that, and Charles decided that he'd had enough of their company for one evening. “I'm going to the bar,” he said, getting up and taking his drink with him.

“Just tell Erik he's hot and that you want to jump him!” Raven called out. “I'm telling you, he won't mind!”

Charles left the private room just as he could hear Angel asking if the sculptor-slash-bartender worked here, and Charles decided that he would rather the ground opened up and swallowed him whole before he would be going back into there that night. He wandered throughout the club for a few minutes, checking out the extravagant interior, before making his way back to the bar and getting a seat towards the end.

“Sick of your friends already?” Erik called out from where he was making someone else's drink.

“You have no idea,” Charles said, bringing his glass to his lips and taking a long sip of his drink. 

Erik just laughed.

~*~

Charles was still sitting at the bar four hours later when Emma brought another empty tray back to Erik. “Your friends are obnoxious,” she said to him, and Charles tipped his glass in her direction.

“An excellent word for them.”

“Why do you put up with them?”

“Not many people willing to be friends with a telepath,” Charles drunkenly murmured. “Got to make friends when you can.”

“Tell me about it,” Emma said, flipping her hair back as Erik filled up the tray. “Where now?”

“These go to Sebastian's office,” Erik said, putting his hands up when Emma glared at him. “What? I don't make these decisions. You know you're the only one allowed in there.”

Emma leaned over the tray and spit into the drink she knew was meant for Sebastian. “Sebastian Shaw is a fucking cunt, and I don't care who hears me say that.” Then she picked up the tray, plastered a smile on her face, and walked away.

Charles burst out laughing, and Erik couldn't keep the smile off his face. “You laugh a lot when you're drunk.”

“I do a lot when I'm drunk,” Charles said. “At least I haven't started to explain your mutation to you in scientific terms yet.”

Erik gave him a confused look. “Scientific terms?”

Charles put his hand above his head and pointed down at himself. “Would be geneticist, remember?”

“Ah, yes,” Erik said, reaching out to wipe down the bar. “Well, maybe someday you can explain my mutation to me in scientific terms.”

Charles stared at him for a moment before telling himself to just do it. “Fuck, I don't even know if you're gay, but will you go home with me tonight?”

Erik glanced over at him from where he was still wiping down the bar and smiled. “Yes, I'm gay, and yes, I'll go home with you. Would you like another drink?”

Charles grinned at him. “When do you get off?”

Erik glanced at the clock. “Midnight.”

Charles nearly fell off his chair turning to look at the clock. “So, another hour?”

“Yep.”

“Then yes, I would like another drink.”

Erik took the empty glass from Charles and quickly replaced it with another Dirty Black Russian. “Still free.”

“You really should let me pay for these,” Charles mumbled. “I must have had at least ten of them by now.”

“Thirteen,” Erik laughed. “But who's counting?”

Charles blinked rapidly at that, staring at the glass in front of him as though it was the antichrist. “I don't think I should drink that one then.”

“Last one,” Erik said. “I'll cut you off after that one.”

Charles drunkenly nodded and picked up the glass, draining half of it in one go. “Sounds good.”

Erik just laughed some more.

~*~

They were barely inside the door of Charles's apartment when Erik pounced on him, pulling him close and kissing him hard. Charles quickly responded, wrapping his arms around Erik and stumbling backwards towards his bedroom. Erik followed him step for step, and it wasn't long before he was kicking the door shut behind them.

Charles broke the kiss to start stripping off his clothes, and Erik quickly did the same. Charles glanced up at him in the middle of it and was so struck by how sexy Erik was that he stopped what he was doing and just watched. When Erik was fully naked, he looked up at Charles and frowned. 

“I thought we were taking our clothes off.”

“We are,” Charles said. “You're just the sexiest thing I've ever seen.”

Erik laughed and stepped closer to Charles, kissing him softly. “You don't have to flatter me. I'm here.”

“I'm not,” Charles said, finishing getting out of his pants and kicking them across the room before he spun around in a circle. “Wait right here.”

Erik watched, amused, as Charles ran out of the room naked, understanding a few moments later when Charles came back with lube and condoms. “Ah.”

“Yeah,” Charles said, tossing them onto the bed. “Um, do you top?”

“Exclusively,” Erik said, a little wary. “Why, do you?”

“No,” Charles said, a grin on his face. “I most certainly do not.”

Erik grinned back at him and then Charles pulled him down onto the bed, pressing their lips together again. Erik ran his hands along Charles's sides, smiling into the kiss as he felt Charles shudder. He broke the kiss and started licking and sucking his way down Charles's neck, making Charles groan. 

After a few minutes of Erik sucking on his collarbone, Charles decided he had to say something. “Erik, please don't take this the wrong way, but I am really drunk and it's been a really long time, so you sort of need to either fuck me right now or I'm going to fall asleep.”

Erik pulled back and looked down at Charles, determined he was being serious, and shook his head. “Oh, Charles. If you would have asked me back sooner, I would have cut you off sooner.”

“Please just fuck me,” Charles begged. “It's been so long, Erik, please.”

Erik nodded and reached towards the lube and the condoms. “Alright, but you've got to promise me that we'll do this right when you're sober.”

“Promise,” Charles breathed out, automatically spreading his legs as wide as they would go. 

Erik slid in between them and reached for the lube, slicking up two of his fingers and bringing them to Charles's hole. He carefully slid one in, and Charles sighed in absolute bliss, making Erik wonder exactly how long was a really long time. He slowly worked his way up to two fingers, Charles opening up for him, and he was going to add another, but Charles's hand clamped down on his wrist right after he had keened from Erik's fingers brushing against his prostate.

“Now, Erik, or I will come and I will fall asleep.”

Erik removed Charles's hand from his wrist, withdrew his hand, and reached for the condoms. Charles sighed in relief when he heard the sound of a foil packet tearing, and he watched through hooded eyes as Erik rolled the condom on and slicked it up. He let his eyes drift close as Erik moved into position and started to push into him, letting out a long moan when the head of Erik's dick slipped in.

“Oh holy fuck you're big,” Charles breathed out. “Fucking amazing.”

Erik shifted around so he was hovering above Charles before sliding all the way into him. “You are so tight. How long has it been since you've done this?”

“Almost two years,” Charles got out, opening his eyes to look into Erik's. “Fuck me.”

Erik suddenly understood Charles's desperation, and he pulled back and thrust back in, drawing a delicious moan from Charles's lips. The moans kept coming as the thrusts increased in speed, and soon Erik was fucking him hard and fast and Charles's eyes were rolled back into his head. Erik shifted his weight onto one arm and slid the other between their bodies, wrapping his hand around Charles's cock and jerking it in time with his thrusts. It didn't take long before Charles was coming, arching into the climax and tightening around Erik's cock, drawing his orgasm from him. 

Erik collapsed onto Charles when it was over, pressing kisses to his neck until he could pull himself together enough to pull out and flip onto the bed next to him. By the time he was done taking the condom off and tying it, Charles was snoring. Erik let himself chuckle before settling down next to Charles and closing his eyes, knowing that he needed sleep too.

~*~

The moment Charles opened his eyes the next morning, he found himself overtaken with complete and utter embarrassment. He brought his hands up to his face as the events of the night before came into clear focus, cringing as he relived some of the stuff he'd said to Erik. God, he wouldn't be surprised if he never saw the man again.

Then he heard a soft chuckle, moved his hands away from his face, and found Erik watching him from the other side of the bed. “You're still here?” was the only thing he could think of to say, and he found himself cringing again. “Oh god, I keep fucking this up, don't I?”

“You're adorable,” Erik said, reaching out and pulling one of Charles's hands to him, kissing it softly. “You're not fucking anything up.”

“But last night...”

“Last night was the beginning. Not a perfect beginning, but it never was going to be with you that drunk. Besides, you promised me you'd make it up to me when you were sober.”

Charles remembered that vaguely and shifted onto his side, wincing. “Fuck.”

Erik looked at him, concerned. “You weren't kidding when you said it'd been almost two years.”

“Sadly not,” Charles said, staring at Erik. “I don't know why you're not running for the exit, honestly.”

“Because you're adorable,” Erik said, moving closer to him. “You're also a sexy little minx, and I really cannot wait to have prolonged sex with you because that taster last night was fucking incredible, even if you did fall asleep right after it.”

Charles brought his hands up to his face and groaned again. “Oh my god, I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry. Like, unbelievably sorry in more ways than I can ever possibly express.”

“Charles,” Erik said firmly, pulling his hands away from his face. “Are you listening to me? It's alright. You were drunk and desperate. I've been there. I get it.”

“Really?”

Erik slid up against him and captured Charles's lips in a deep kiss. “Do you get it yet?”

Charles reached up and pulled Erik into another kiss before burying his face in Erik's neck. “I get it.”

“Good,” Erik murmured, running a hand down Charles's back. “I'd say you owe me now, but I think you're probably too sore for that, so it's just going to have to be after dinner some time this week then.”

Charles's head whipped up. “Dinner?”

“Yes, you know, where two people go to a restaurant and eat a meal in the evening?” Erik laughed as Charles smacked him in the shoulder.

“I know what dinner is, thank you very much,” Charles murmured. “I didn't think you would be interested in dinner. I mean, I'm not much of a catch, if you hadn't figured that out by now.”

“I disagree,” Erik said, kissing Charles softly. “I've wanted to have sex with you practically since the moment we met.”

“The moment we met?”

“I was expecting some old stuffy art curator and then here you come around the corner and god, you have no idea how gorgeous you are, I can just tell, and then you actually showed an appreciation for my art before you'd seen pictures of it, and well, the way to my heart is through my sculptures,” Erik murmured. “Then you told me you had a Masters in Art History and I knew I had to have you somehow. I was just praying you were gay.”

Charles laughed. “Oh honey, just wait till you get to know me better. The gayness will become obvious. Raven is always making fun of me for how flamingly homosexual she thinks I am.”

“I'm a bit more reserved than that,” Erik said, smiling at him. “But I think I can live with a flaming homo.”

“Good,” Charles said, staring at him again. “You're really sure you don't want to get dressed and run away screaming?”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone wants you?” Erik asked, and Charles sucked in a deep breath. “You don't have to answer that if you don't want to.”

“No, it's fine,” Charles said, bringing a hand up to his head and tapping at his temple. “Telepath. It's hard for people to trust me because they think I'm just in their head all the time when the reality of it is that I'd prefer to stay out of people's heads.”

“Have you been in my head?” Erik asked.

“No.”

“Then I see no reason not to trust you,” Erik said, catching Charles's hand and pressing kisses to his fingers. “Stay out of it and we'll be good.”

“Alright,” Charles said, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “Erik?”

“Hm?”

“Last night was the best sex I've ever had. I didn't get a chance to say that before I fell asleep.”

Erik grinned. “Glad to hear it. I concur.”

Charles turned his head to look at him and Erik slid closer, putting his head on Charles's shoulder. “How about we sleep some more, hm?”

“The gallery...”

“It's Saturday.”

“We're normally open on Saturdays,” Charles murmured. “We especially should be today, now that we have an exhibition.”

Erik just slung an arm across Charles's waist and pinned him down. “The artist says you can be closed today.”

“Oh, well, then, I suppose that's alright.”

~*~

The month-long exhibition came and went. More people went through the gallery than Charles could count. All of Erik's sculptures sold, and Erik was thrilled, because the money meant he could quit his job at Aquitaine's.

More mutant artists started to come into the gallery for exhibitions. By the end of two months, Charles was booked through the end of the year.

Three months later, Erik moved his stuff into Charles's apartment. He never left.


End file.
